


Half Past Quarter to Three

by Caprichoso



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: "Consumed as Leorio is by his own thoughts, the creaking of their front door opening and closing doesn't register with him until there's a presence in the doorway to the bedroom-- a silhouette just a touch darker than the darkness of the hallway, accented with two gently-glowing red lights. Scrambling to his feet, Leorio clicks on the lamp and turns with his heart in his throat, a relieved smile beginning to tug at his lips, until he comes face to face with a nightmare. Kurapika's eyes are a sickly, hollow magenta, staring at something only he can see. Still more distressing, though, is the blood."Angsty sex and great big feelings jumbled together.





	Half Past Quarter to Three

**Author's Note:**

> More inspiration from the Leopika Discord, and from the Scissor Sisters. There's a decent amount of angst and some self-loathing painful sex ahead, so proceed accordingly.
> 
> Title and opening quote cribbed from the song referenced.

_9, 10, 11, now midnight strikes_  
_I don't know where you've been_  
_But I still want to make love tonight_  
_When you come stumbling in_  
_-Scissor Sisters, Baby Come Home_

* * *

 

The bedroom is too quiet, has been for the past several nights, and Leorio's mind fills the silence with an ever-growing sense of dread. Even on good nights, he's no stranger to lying awake as his brain runs an exhaustive catalogue of his failures-- past and future, real and imagined. Now, though, his thoughts are elsewhere, bathed in a scarlet glow that turns crimson to shiny black, vague and terrible images shifting to create endless horrors. Uncertainty has always led him to catastrophize, often irrationally; in this moment, though, the one thing of which he is certain keeps him from being able to dispel the progressively worsening what-ifs of the situation.

Kurapika is gone, and Leorio knows precisely what his lover is doing, and it terrifies him. As to the where, though, Leorio won't ask, can't ever ask for fear of shattering what little assurance he has that Kurapika will return if he's able.

He's been fortunate in the past, but the odds are never good.

This life they've so painstakingly constructed together is strikingly domestic; he knows Kurapika to be a creature of habit, but for so many of those habits to have come to include Leorio is a pleasant surprise. A first alarm leads to gentle cuddles and nuzzles or simply draping an arm or a leg over one another; the second, ten minutes later, to Leorio groaning and reluctantly shuffling to the refrigerator to pour them their cups of cold-brew coffee. He adds hot water for himself, and cold water for Kurapika.

This morning, Leorio had made both cups out of habit before realizing his mistake. He'd drunk them both, hoping the second one would make him feel a shade closer to his absent lover, but it had only left him cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.

Tomorrow, maybe he'll try it again and see if it feels any different. He doesn't want to get used to the idea of only making one cup.

For now, Leorio shifts yet again, hugging his second pillow to his chest. He resists, this time, the temptation to lean a bit farther to Kurapika's side and bury his face in the pillow that smells of expensive herbal shampoo, one of Kurapika's few outright concessions to vanity. He's already brushed most of the salty residue from last night's tears off of it, but there's no getting it all out without laundering the pillowcase, and he refuses to do that.

With a sigh that starts low in his aching gut and runs through his entire being, Leorio reaches over to his nightstand and fumbles until his phone lights up with the time-- 3:14. He's been chasing sleep for over two hours now; even if he finally catches it in the next five minutes, he needs to be up in less than two hours to make it to the hospital in time for his shift. He'd stayed up too late again tonight, partly from wanting to tire himself out enough to finally pass out, and partly from a lingering hope that perhaps tonight would be the night Kurapika returned.

Another pair of empty wishes; he's accumulating quite the collection at this rate.

Consumed as Leorio is by his own thoughts, the creaking of their front door opening and closing doesn't register with him until there's a presence in the doorway to the bedroom-- a silhouette just a touch darker than the darkness of the hallway, accented with two gently-glowing red lights. Scrambling to his feet, Leorio clicks on the lamp and turns with his heart in his throat, a relieved smile beginning to tug at his lips, until he comes face to face with a nightmare.

Kurapika's eyes are a sickly, hollow magenta, staring at something only he can see. Still more distressing, though, is the blood. He first notices it smeared in vaguely hand-sized streaks along his face, dry and beginning to flake, but a large enough quantity to still be wet and glistening covers the tattered remains of his shirt, and still more is soaked into his slacks.

At first Leorio is convinced he's dreaming, until the smell hits him-- blood and hints of viscera and a cloying scent of a very particular nature. He knew long before becoming a doctor what death smells like, and he's only become better acquainted with it over the years. Dreams don't smell like this.

Kurapika is real, he's _here_ , and Leorio has crossed the room and slung his arms around him before he knows what's happening, huffing relieved sighs that border on whimpers into his lover's hair. Strong fingertips dig into the muscles of his back, then clench fistfuls of the dress shirt Leorio hadn't bothered to remove. Blood is soaking into the front of his shirt now, but Leorio doesn't give a damn, because the man who holds his heart is home, and at least somewhat safe, and Leorio isn't letting go until Kurapika does.

The second Kurapika's grip loosens, though, Leorio is scanning as best he can for injuries without being too invasive. Unfortunately, with so much blood (and he hopes and hopes it belongs to someone else), it's tough to tell, so he settles for asking. "Are you okay, Pika? Are you hurt?"

Those glowing eyes stare through Leorio as though he's not even there, but slowly, too slowly, recognition returns, and Kurapika looks into Leorio's eyes for the briefest of moments before he glances away.

"Pika, please. I need to know, are you injured?"

A shake of his head is all Kurapika can give him in response, but it's enough, has to be enough. Maybe the blood isn't his, or maybe Emperor Time already took care of the healing. Either way, he's not in immediate danger.

Relief flows into Leorio so quickly he nearly staggers; a sigh, and he smiles down at his lover. "You're back. You came home."

Kurapika swallows hard, nods, his gaze hovering around Leorio's chin. He makes as if to speak, but cuts himself off before a sound escapes. Another nod is all he manages.

"I'm just... I'm so glad you're back, Pika."

A whimper. Kurapika clutches at Leorio's shirtfront even harder, finally looks up enough to meet his eyes. "Le-- Le-o..." He stops, sniffles, and the first teardrop spills. He begins to say something that might be an _I_ , but it dissolves into a keening wail, and he slowly sinks to his knees, dragging a compliant Leorio down with him.

"It's okay, it's fine, it'll be okay," Leorio murmurs, stroking Kurapika's hair, and hopes to a god he doesn't believe in that he's telling the truth. "Just... tell me what you need. Anything." And he means it-- anything in his power, he'll do, and if it's not in his power, he'll do his damnedest.

Of all the things he expected that _anything_  might entail, though, he's in no way prepared when Kurapika's mouth slams into his, tongue already needy and searching. Kurapika is rarely one for sloppy tongue kisses, preferring a more nuanced approach, but this is practically a different man who's shuffling forward and pushing Leorio insistently back toward the bed without breaking the kiss for an instant. This Kurapika is equal parts demanding and fragile, and Leorio doesn't dare hesitate or say a word for fear of breaking him.

The backs of Leorio's knees hit the edge of the bed, and he topples over, dragging Kurapika on top of him. Desperate hands tug and tear and push at the clothing that separates them until it's all thrown aside, not a thought to how they'll get the bloodstains out of whatever it all lands on; Kurapika's need overrides all other concerns.

As more skin is exposed to him, Leorio can't help but map it with his hands-- not out of enjoyment, but out of a compulsive need to reassure himself that the skin he glides over is unbroken, the bones and organs beneath undamaged. He very nearly palpates with his Nen, but restrains himself from doing anything that might spook Kurapika. For now, he can only try to fill the needs of this hollow, hungry thing that's taken over the body of his lover, and hope that when it's over, his Pika is still somewhere in there.

Their bottle of lube is pressed insistently into Leorio's hand, and he squeezes out a few pumps into his palm, slicking up Kurapika's erection first before better coating his own fingers, rubbing them gently around Kurapika's hole as he gently strokes the bobbing length before him. It's been several days since they last did this, and Kurapika has always needed an extra patient touch to get him ready to take all of Leorio. He continues to work Kurapika's cock even as he gently slides one finger in, slow and steady, and the whimper he receives is proof he's on the right track. A second finger, and Kurapika rams down on it, bucking wildly and making distressed mewling sounds.

It's only a few seconds before a powerful grip seizes Leorio's wrist, and he allows Kurapika to remove his fingers. Leorio is silently cursing himself for having gone too far too fast, but he's only human, and damn it all, he's _missed_ this man. When Kurapika releases Leorio's wrist and hooks his heels behind Leorio's legs to draw him in rather than put distance between them, he's shocked enough that Kurapika has time to grab hold of his member and try to guide it in without even lubing it up first.

Leorio does his best to stop him short, cupping his lover's face in one hand while the other splays across the breadth of a thigh, stilling the movement of his hips. "Pika! Wait, Pika! If you do that right now--"

"Leorio, please." It's the closest to coherent speech Kurapika has gotten so far, and there's something just a bit sharper in his glowing gaze. Still, though, he hasn't been prepared nearly enough.

"Shhh, be patient, love," he says, trying to get just a touch more lucidity back to that stare. "You're not quite ready yet. If I do it now, it's going to h--"

"Hurt me, Leorio." It comes out solid, a clear command. Kurapika's eyes glisten, but his jaw is set. "I want... I need it to hurt."

Leorio's gut clenches. It's not like they've never gotten rough with each other before, but with Kurapika in this state, it feels like a horrible idea. Still, he's never been any good at denying Kurapika anything he wants, good or bad, and the need in his own loins is quickly overriding any good sense he might have had. "You remember your safeword?"

"Yes, but I won't need it."

"Not what I asked," Leorio shoots back. A moment later, he's slicking his own member up, almost able to quiet that little part of him that insists this is wrong. He aligns himself, guiding the head of his cock to brush against Kurapika's entrance, and applies steady pressure until it pops in, drawing a gasp from him and a grunt from Kurapika.

It's a tight squeeze normally, but this feels like Leorio could do some actual damage if he's too hasty. Just as he resolves to take it nice and slow, though, Kurapika locks his ankles behind Leorio again, and this time he manages to draw him in another few inches. A pained not-quite-whine reaches Leorio's ears, but Kurapika keeps bucking against him, so Leorio rocks his hips as gently as he thinks he can without angering Kurapika.

His lover sets an impatient pace, drawing Leorio ever deeper even as the discomfort furrows Kurapika's brow, makes him sweat and pant and shake his head as he clutches the sheets. It's Leorio who finally gives in and snaps his hips forward for the final inches, and the motion sends every part of Kurapika's body taut, tears and the faintest hint of a magenta glow leaking from behind eyes squeezed shut. Seconds pass, Leorio acutely aware of Kurapika's hammering heartbeat pulsing around his cock, then just a fraction of the tension flees. "Move," Kurapika growls, and Leorio can only comply.

As attentive a lover as he prides himself on being under normal circumstances, Leorio does his best to tune out most of the signals he's getting from Kurapika tonight, largely because he's radiating nothing but pain, distress, and despair. It's all Leorio can do to follow Kurapika's orders not to stop, to trust that this is what he needs... even though each thrust makes Leorio hate himself a little bit more.

As he picks up his pace and strokes all of Kurapika's favorite spots, hoping to bring him to a quicker climax out of mercy toward both of them, he's glad to feel a shudder run through the body beneath him. Just a little more, and maybe...

The strangled sob that wrenches its way from Kurapika is enough to rip Leorio's heart to shreds, and tears well up and spill from his own eyes as Kurapika falls over the precipice into full-blown weeping. He can't. Not like this. He slows his thrusts to a halt, struggling to at least keep pumping Kurapika's cock, but fails at that as well. "Circuit breaker," he chokes out, "Circuit breaker."

It's their safeword, and Kurapika should be the one using it now, not him, but he can't hurt the man he loves any more. Not tonight, not when he's spent days wondering if he'd ever wake up beside him again.

"No!" Kurapika grabs hold of Leorio's arms and pulls himself up, eyes scarlet with fury. "You can't stop, damn you!"

"I'm sorry," Leorio mumbles through the lump in his throat. "I can't do it, Pika. I can't keep hurting you. I love you, I can't. Not like this."

Some unholy mix of a sob and a shriek comes tearing from Kurapika's chest, and he slaps Leorio in the face hard enough to leave a ringing sound. "Fuck you! I said hurt me!" As if a switch has been flipped, though, he falls back to the bed as all his rage flees, leaving behind an even more deeply broken man than before. "I need... I need to hurt," he whimpers. "I need to suffer. I deserve it."

With a sigh, Leorio reaches down between them and gently withdraws his now-soft dick. The dull ache signaling the onset of blue balls is nothing compared to the bruise this whole mess has left on his soul. "Pika, you and I are going to hop in the shower, I'm going to clean you off, and then you're going to explain what the hell you're talking about, okay?" He expects to be met with moody silence, and is all the more taken aback when there's an almost-immediate answer.

"I tortured and killed a man tonight," Kurapika blurts, eyes widening, seemingly just as shocked as Leorio at how quickly and easily the words spill out. "And when I was through, all I could think was... he had a daughter. I just did to her what was done to me."

A thousand responses make it halfway to Leorio's mouth before he cuts them off; they've discussed this topic in depth, gotten into shouting matches and made tearful confessions, and he won't be the one to start that tonight. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say, Pika, but right now I really want you to come with me to take a shower. Once we're cleaned up, we can either talk this out or leave it till morning. And I'll do anything you need me to do, except punish you. You're doing too damn much of that to yourself as it is."

Kurapika sniffles, eyes wide and already glistening with more tears, as though he can't bring himself to believe Leorio isn't throwing him out of their apartment. "How are you so good to me?" he whispers, a fragile hint of a smile on his lips.

The smile Leorio gives him is a bit steadier, but not by much; he hides it by taking Kurapika's hand and pressing a kiss to a blood-caked knuckle. "At least one of us has to be good to you, even if you're not up to doing it."

If Kurapika is so overcome by the simple power of that statement that he curls into a trembling ball, if Leorio has to pick him up and carry him into the shower and hold him up with one arm as he washes away the sins of the past few days, if before letting Kurapika curl up into his arms he has to send a text to his supervisor using up one of his few sick days, he's kind enough not to mention any of it.

His heart has finally come home, and for tonight, that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments, no matter how small or simple, will be treasured.


End file.
